It's 3 am
by Maijajo
Summary: A brooding DL story. My first one in awhile, so be kind!


**_Disclaimer:_ **_I don't own these people or the song by matchbox 20._

**_Rating:_ **_K+ for language_

_**Author's Note:**_ _Danny/Lindsay of course._ _Kind of a strange, melancholy piece. Not sure how I feel about it, but thought I'd post anyway. _

**It's 3 a.m.**

His fingers were in constant motion on the keypad of his remote control. Late night talk show. Dumb political show. Juico-o-matic infomercial. Home Improvement rerun. Some cheesy reality show on the network formerly known as a music station.

Finally, Danny clicked the television off in frustration, paused a moment, and sent it flying across the room. "Fuck. TV sucks. No wonder Pop called it the boob tube," he says to the empty room around him.

It's almost 1:45 a.m. Saturday morning, he has the coming day off, and he's spent the evening in his apartment alone. No brewskis with Flack at Brady's, no lucky lady to share the evening, not even a late night workout to take up his time.

The sad thing is? It's his choice, because the only person he wants to share his evenings with is across the country. Lindsay is in Montana, going through hell, a hell she wouldn't share with him.

Danny knows he should understand, but can't help being angry – hurt, really. Through all their bantering and good-natured flirting, he always felt a genuine friendship had grown, and he had hoped to see it blossom further.

But mostly? He's just worried about her. Over the past several weeks, he watched the twinkle slowly fade from her eyes, that sassy spark that first drew him to her from that first moment at the zoo. The line between her brows deepened, her manner became closed. She shut him out in every way possible, and now she was gone, facing her demons alone.

The pain he feels at her rejection scares him, because the Danny Messer of old would have just moved on to the next pretty face. Lindsay's more than that – pretty, yes, in her soft way, but arresting, a face and a depth that made him only want to dive deeper. To glimpse such pain underneath the layers she wears to protect herself? It's unbearable – the thing that wakes him up in the middle of the night, wishing he could battle back all her demons.

For the next hour or so, Danny finds himself puttering around his small apartment; reading magazines, snacking on junk food, cleaning – his mom would love that – anything to keep his mind off the brown-eyed girl from Montana who haunts his thoughts and dreams. Finally, exhausted but unable to sleep, he turns on the radio, dims his lights, and lets her come to him.

"_I like you, Danny … a lot."_

He recalls the way his heart leapt at that statement.

"_I can't be in a relationship with you."_

His brow furrows as he remembers the stabbing in his chest even has he'd tried to play off his feelings. He'd just wanted dinner with a friend … _right_.

Most of all, Danny remembers how the pain in her eyes made him forget his own bruised feelings, how he wanted to help her in any way he could.

… _and she only sleeps when it's raining …_

_and she screams and her voice is straining …_

_She says baby …_

_It's 3 a.m. and I must be lonely …_

Danny glances at the clock and smiles grimly at the time – 3 a.m. Jerk-off DJ with the obvious sense of humor. The smirk fades.

"Are you lonely, Lindsay? God knows I am."

… _she swears the moon don't hang quite as high as it used to …_

If only she knew he would hang the moon for her … all she had to do was ask. Danny bangs his head against his headboard in frustration. The so-called Casanova of the lab finally offers himself on a platter – with more sentimentality than Hallmark could muster – and she walks away. The old Danny that still lives in a corner of his mind tries to be angry, but the man he has become can't be in the face of her sorrow.

… _she thinks that happiness is a mat that sits on her doorway …_

The line plays on an endless loop in his mind for a few minutes before he stands decisively. "Well, maybe it does," Danny murmurs, and knows what he has to do.

**_Several hours later …_**

Lindsay Monroe knows it's too early to wake up. A glance at the Tweety Bird clock on the nightstand –it belongs to her cousin Polly, currently backpacking in France – and is distressed to see that it's 5 a.m. Day four of the murder trial reconvenes at 1 p.m. (the judge had a golf outing he was unwilling to miss that morning), and she knows she should be resting - she needs all her wits about her on the stand. But apprehension and thoughts of a blue-eyed Staten Island boy with a cocksure grin plague her thoughts.

Her eyes fly open at the sound of a soft knock at her door. "What the hell?" Her mind rushes through the people who know she's there – her parents, sister, best friend – and quickly discount them as being insane enough to come over this early. She creeps stealthily out of bed, service revolver her hand, and approaches the door.

"Who is it?"

"Jesus, Montana. It's freezing out here. Open up."

Lindsay takes a moment to collect herself before opening the door to see a red-eyed Danny Messer grinning tiredly. "Danny?"

"The one and only. Can I come in?"

She steps wordlessly aside and closes the door after him. "What are you doing here? You shouldn't be here …"

To her surprise he actually blushes before stepping closer. "It was 3 a.m. and I was lonely."

_Matchbox 20?_ Is her last thought before he takes her in his arms, holding her so tight she can scarcely take a breath … and it feels wonderful.

"I couldn't stay away. I wanted to be here for you, for me," he murmurs into her hair. He chuckles softly. "I guess I wanted to be the happiness on your doorway."

Her mind can't quite figure out that one, but Lindsay knows that despite pushing him away, her heart and mind need him to be right there, with his arms wrapped around her.

And for the first time in several weeks – the first time since the tragedy that changed her life a decade ago – she feels truly safe.

**The End**


End file.
